


Age In Relation to Pregnancy

by RoseThornhill



Series: The X-Files: Season 12 [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Humor, MSR, Monster of the Week, Politics, Post-Canon, Undercover, motw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseThornhill/pseuds/RoseThornhill
Summary: Mulder and Scully go undercover to face their greatest X-File yet: whatever is going on in the White House.





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Episode Three. To start at the beginning, read [Episode One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700824/chapters/49172258) first!

COLD OPEN

SHARONVILLE CONVENTION CENTER

CINCINNATI, OHIO

JULY 6, 2016

“Drain the swamp! Drain the swamp!” Ryan joined with the boisterous chants of fellow rally attendees with vigor. He hadn’t been this excited about politics… well, ever. Finally, someone was looking out for the working man, the regular guy, Main Street instead of Wall Street. 

Ryan didn’t really understand the “drain the swamp” chant, but he felt welcome in this community. There were lots of other white guys, blue-collar guys like him. No one was worried about being “nice” or inclusive; they were just worried about putting food on the table. 

After the rally, exhausted and invigorated, Ryan hung out in the parking lot with some of his new friends, a kind of post-tailgate where they drank beer and talked about the evening’s rally. Most of these guys were racist against Muslims and Mexicans; some were pretty extreme with their white nationalism. He didn’t partake in that stuff, but none of it really bothered Ryan. He didn’t really know anyone of a different race. It didn’t affect him. 

Where he did join in was when they started talking about girls. Ryan certainly wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t going to brag that most of his sexual conquests were with hookers or passed out girls who couldn’t say no. He liked that this political movement seemed to put men back in power - _ white _ men - and that was what Ryan wanted.

Ryan left after about an hour. His buddies were still getting drunk and they were getting sloppy as the night went on. He had to be at work in the morning.

Stumbling home, Ryan slowed, thinking he heard footsteps behind him. “Hello?” he called out. No answer. _ I may have had one too many beers _, he thought as he continued walking. A few more steps, and he heard that noise again. He stopped. The noise stopped. 

He continued walking, a bit faster. He was so engrossed in his own footsteps that he didn’t notice the strange silhouette that appeared on the alley wall; the tendrils coming out of the distinctly non-human shape. Ryan didn’t take notice until something slimy wrapped itself around his torso and smothered his face.

* * *

OPENING CREDITS

* * *

FBI TRAINING ACADEMY

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

JULY 22, 2018

Scully was absorbed in grading papers when a soft, feminine voice interrupted the quiet.

“Hi Dana.”

She was certain she recognized the voice… but it couldn’t be… could it?

Scully looked up and saw Monica Reyes standing in her doorway. 

“Monica!” Scully was stunned. She didn’t know what to say.

Monica chuckled a little bit. “Surprised to see me?”

Scully was awash with emotions. She was glad to see her friend alive. When she last saw Monica, she had been shot in the head and was seemingly dead in the front seat of a car. But her “friend” had also been working with her sworn enemy. 

“Um, yes. Yes I am. I thought you were…”

“Dead?” Monica chuckled again. “You should know a simple bullet can’t keep me down.”

Scully looked at Monica and noticed her hair was cut asymmetrically. It was starting to grow out, but it had clearly been shaved down to allow a surgeon’s tools access to her skull. The edges of a healing scar peeked out from her hair. Scully also realized Monica’s words were slurred.

Smiling slightly, Scully spoke carefully, still unsure if she could trust her or not. “Of course. I’m glad to see you. You seem to be doing well. What brings you to Quantico?”

“I’d love to take you to lunch, if you’re free. Agent Mulder, too, if he’s around.”

As if summoned, Mulder appeared. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going; he was too focused on scratching at the bandages on his arm. “Scully, when can these bandages come off?” he whined, nearly walking in to Monica. He was equally surprised to see Monica, but made a better show of it. “Monica! Great to see you. You look well.”

“You too, Mulder. I was just coming to see if you and Dana wanted to get some lunch.”

Mulder and Scully spoke to each other with their eyes. _ Do you wanna? _ his said. _ Can we trust her? _ hers said. _ Your call _ was his unspoken response. Scully seemed to consider this a moment. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Scully rose from her desk, and Monica squealed in excitement. “Oh my gosh, Dana! Congratulations!” 

Scully had forgotten that she had begun to show. Her hand fluttered nervously to her belly. “Oh, thanks. Hopefully we won’t have to have this one in the middle of nowhere with an audience.”

“We? Is it…?” She looked expectantly at Mulder.

“That’s the rumor,” he joked. Monica threw her arms around Mulder, then rushed up to Scully and hugged her as well.

“I’m so excited for you two!”

* * *

The three of them sat for lunch. Shortly after they ordered, Scully decided she had to clear the air. “Monica… level with me. Why were you working with the Cigarette Smoking Man?”

Monica sighed and looked away, clearly distraught. “I wanted to tell you, I did. But then everything went to hell so quickly, and I was dead and—“ She stopped and looked Scully in the eye. “I was trying to protect you, Dana. And William, too. I heard rumblings about the Syndicate reforming, and I was scared for you. I thought maybe I could be a double agent. Side with the Syndicate, steer them away from you and William, maybe let you know of their movements.”

“So when you called to tell me William was being flown to Maryland….”

“I didn’t know he didn’t get on that plane. I was only looking out for you, for him.” Scully nodded, seemed to be absorbing all of this. Monica reached over and took her hand in her own. “Even though I have no right to, I feel like, in some way, William is part of my family, too. I was there with you, I helped bring him into the world. I helped hide him.”

Scully smiled weakly, eyes wet with tears. “You made those ridiculous whale songs,” she croaked. The women laughed and eventually shared a hug. 

* * *

As lunch went on, the mood between Mulder, Scully, and Monica began to relax. She revealed that, after Skinner shot her in the car, she woke up a month later in the hospital. A series of surgeries to fix the damage in her brain were largely successful. Several months of intensive physical, speech, and occupational therapies restored most of her functions. She still slurred her words - something that would probably never be fully fixed. Her motor functions were slowed and her hands were shaky, but she was in surprisingly good shape. She was back with the FBI, but because she could no longer hold a gun or pass the physical requirements required for field work, she was put on desk duty.

Despite the setbacks, Monica still managed to preserve her positive outlook, and didn’t seem to harbor any ill will towards Skinner. She was working in the domestic terrorism unit, with a focus on fringe groups and cults.

“...Which is one of the reasons I came looking for you two,” Monica explained. “I need your help with a case.”

“Is it something X-Filesy?” Mulder asked, excitement dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“Well… not exactly,” Monica said. “We suspect that there is a group working within the president’s base that is planning an attack of some sort. There are a lot of domestic terrorists in his base, and they operate like a cult.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “But between us… I suspect there is more than just a rabid fanbase going on there. While we have been investigating, some of the most zealous supporters have disappeared. Of course, since there are no bodies, no one wants to hear it…” She trailed off, but the meaning dangled in the air: No one wanted to touch something fraught with political ramifications.

“But we are the black sheep of Bureau, so you figured we wouldn’t care,” Mulder finished. He wasn’t being snarky; he was stating fact.

Monica shrugged slightly. “If you’re up to it, I need you two to go undercover within the base. Infiltrate the inner circle and see what is happening to these followers.”

“Do you suspect they are being disappeared for political reasons? Is this the radical left?” Mulder asked.

“I really don’t know,” Monica replied honestly.

“Monica, we aren’t field agents anymore,” Scully offered.

“This is low-risk, Dana,” Monica said, eyeing her friend’s baby bump. “I would do it, but…” She held up her twitching hands, reminiscent of the president’s mocking demonstration of journalist Serge Kovaleski. “They wouldn’t take me seriously.” 

“We would need to speak with Skinner,” Mulder said slowly, looking at Scully, “to get reinstated.”

Monica produced a signed letter from the Deputy Director himself. _ She really wants us on this _, Scully thought, running through the potential risks in her head. She locked eyes with Mulder, making the decision. “Okay Monica. We’re in.”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Thank you guys so much! I’m going to run and get the files for you.” Monica gave them each a quick hug and ran out of the restaurant.

When left alone, Mulder looked worriedly at Scully. “Are you sure about this?”

“Just because these people differ from us politically doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve justice,” Scully said thoughtfully. “I don’t like the idea that politics are preventing crimes from being investigated. And I kind of miss being in the field. Besides,” she said with a smile, “isn’t the president’s base fanatical pro-lifers? They will keep me safe - at least until I pop this kid out.”

“Admit it: you just want to play house.”

“You’ve used that line on me before, Mulder. We live together. We are going to have a child together. In order to play more house, we would need to be covered in drywall.”

Mulder sat back and took a sip of iced tea. “Hey, did she just stick us with the check?”

* * *

Scully and Mulder would be posing as Norma and Joe Blake. Joe was a menial white collar worker and Norma was a schoolteacher, until she got pregnant with her “miracle” baby, at which point she retired to focus on being a homemaker and mother. Monica didn’t have any details on _ who _ exactly they were looking for, so the plan was to attend some rallies, make some “friends,” and see where that leads.

Now they just had to dress the part. 

“I’m not wearing this,” Scully protested when Mulder handed her a t-shirt that said “Grab her by the pussy” over the picture of a kitten.

“But they’re a matching set!” Mulder protested, holding up his shirt, which proclaimed “Pussy grabber” on it. Scully was not amused, so he pulled out two other t-shirts: one said “Suck it up, snowflake” and the other said “Build the wall, deport them all.” “Lady’s choice!”

Eventually the two compromised: they would wear regular jeans and t-shirts, but topped off with MAGA hats.

“I feel dirty,” Scully bemoaned as Mulder straightened the red cap on her head.

“How dirty?” Mulder asked with a cocked eyebrow, moving towards her seductively. 

She slapped his hand away playfully. “Not _ that _ dirty.”

* * *

PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

JULY 25

The “Blakes” arrived at the rally and hung out near the back. It was a little quieter, a little saner back there. Scully felt naked without her firearm, and reached for it instinctually at least twice. 

There was an interesting mix of people there. Scully expected to see the extremist backwoods devotees who loved to spew their xenophobia for any news camera that would let them, but she wasn’t ready to mingle with them just yet. She knew that subset was where most of the victims came from, but she needed to acclimate first. She wasn’t sure she could talk to them without punching them in the face.

Mulder saw the anxiety on Scully’s face and took her hand. “It’s okay Norma,” he said with a wink. She squeezed his hand and felt herself relax a little bit.

“That’s so sweet, to see an older couple still in love,” cooed a middle-aged woman who approached them. Scully’s first instinct was to drop Mulder’s hand, but he held on tight and extended his other hand out to the woman.

“Aw thanks. I’m Joe Blake, and this is my wife Norma.”

“Lovely to meet you. I’m Karla, and that over there is my husband Edward,” she said, pointing to a man chatting with another couple. “Is this your first rally?”

“Yes, it is,” Mulder said. “We’ve… liked the direction the country has been going in, so we decided to become more politically active.” Mulder bit back the bile he felt at the back of his throat. Scully had a harder time, and managed only a weak smile.

Edward came over and the introductions began anew. “They are new to the rally scene,” Karla explained to her husband. “They wisely chose to stay in the back.”

“Yeah, a lot of those guys that stand up front… they get a little _ too _ into it,” Edward agreed. He looked Scully up and down. “You’ve got precious cargo there. You’ve got to take it easy.” 

Karla elbowed Edward and hissed, “Honey, you’re not supposed to say that unless you are _ really _ sure! She could just be fat!”

Scully blushed and fumbled for words. Mulder picked up the slack. “Six months!” he said, patting Scully’s belly. “A little girl.” 

Karla threw her arms around Scully as she squealed like a life-long friend. “Congratulations!” Scully tried to shoot Mulder a look that said, _ Help me! _ but Edward was too busy shaking his hand. Scully rode out the hug with the patience of a saint.

“Do you have a name picked out yet?” Karla asked.

Scully opened her mouth to speak, ready to go back and defend herself against that “she could just be fat” remark, but Mulder sensed that she was already ready to break cover, so he stepped in. “No, not yet. That’s still up for discussion.”

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Joe,” Edward said jovially. “You’ve got yourself quite a wife there.” He again looked Scully up and down. “She’s quite a looker, and she knows her place.” Karla laughed nervously. Mulder forced something that he hoped resembled a smile.

Scully, however, forgot herself. She lunged at Edward, stopped only because Mulder sensed her anger and caught her by the waist. Luckily for Edward, the lights dimmed and the rally began. “Wait until you at least have your gun back,” Mulder hissed in her ear. “Then I will help you dump the body.”

* * *

Scully could hardly wait until they got in the car before she began ranting about the racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, and science-phobic nonsense she had to listen to all night.

“How? How are there people who are stupid enough to believe this shit?” she yelped as she buckled her seatbelt. Mulder opened his mouth to respond, then realized she didn’t need anyone backing her up. She needed to vent, and Mulder “knew his place.”

Scully spent the entire car ride home railing about the president’s stance on the climate crisis; his attempts to blame everything on the previous administration; his defense of autocracies; his lack of defense of the intelligence community; his treatment of women; and his overall hypocritical view of the world. 

It was not until they arrived home that Scully stopped to breathe. Mulder turned off the ignition and took this opportunity to speak.

“Scully. It’s not too late to back out of this. We aren’t in deep.”

She sighed. “Mulder, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I just… you know me. It is physically painful to hold my tongue like that, to play the submissive wife. I guess I just needed to unload.”

He smiled at her, took her hand in his, and kissed it tenderly. “I know. And you know I _ don’t _ want you to be like that. I love the fierce, independent woman that you are. I’m trying to be a good influence for you by putting up with this dreadful garbage.” She leaned in and gave him a thankful kiss. 

“Are you going to be okay at Karla and Edward’s for dinner tomorrow night?” he asked.

Scully shrugged. She honestly didn’t know, but she was going to give it a try.

“Now, the real question. Which is more offensive to you: this administration’s views on women, or this administration’s views on science?” This got Scully riled up again, and Mulder laughed as she launched into an angry diatribe on their way into the house.


	2. Act 2

MORGANTOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

JULY 26

The Blakes arrived at Karla and Edward’s modest suburban home with a bottle of wine (American wine). They were greeted with hugs and hellos, and Scully felt surprisingly comfortable at the Baldwin home - despite their political views.

Karla gave them a quick tour of their no-frills home, then Mulder and Scully sat in the living room while Edward opened the wine. He gave a glass to Mulder, a glass to Karla, and a glass to himself. Scully eyed Edward, dangerously close to speaking up, when Edward filled in the quiet. “Don’t worry, Norma. Karla will get you something non-alcoholic from the kitchen.”

“You know, Edward, doctors say that an occasional glass of wine while pregnant causes no risk to the fetus,” Scully said, trying to bite back her authoritative voice. 

Edward gave Mulder a troubled look. Mulder smiled dumbly - before he realized that Edward wanted him to “put his wife in her place.” Turning to Scully, he said, “Norma, why don’t you just have some juice or something? No reason to risk it.” He leaned in and gave Scully a tiny kiss on the lips. “You can lick all the wine off my lips that you’d like,” he whispered in her ear. Scully was so turned on by Mulder’s suggestion and his breath in her ear that all desire to drink disappeared. Now she was just focusing on keeping her breath even.

“Come on, Norma. You can help me in the kitchen,” Karla said brightly. Scully made a move to stand when Edward put a stop to it. 

“Nonsense, Karla. You can manage. Norma is _ with child _. She shouldn’t be on her feet longer than necessary. And while you are in there, make sure to bring out the cheese and crackers. The Blakes brought wine; the least we can do is have some snacks to go with it while you finish dinner.”

Any arousal Scully felt a moment ago quickly left and turned to anger. Karla shrugged an apology and slipped off to the kitchen. Mulder could sense Scully’s tension growing again, so he put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

After bringing cheese and crackers into the living room, Edward insisted that Karla clean up a splash of wine he spilled on the rug. She did so while bragging about her own custom cleaning fluid. She then had to collect all the dishes and bring them back into the kitchen. As such, Karla wasn’t in the living room much to chat with, and Scully quickly discovered that, no matter how often Mulder tried to bring her into the conversation with Edward, she was not welcome to contribute.

* * *

Dinner was served. Karla cooked a lovely - and heavy - dinner of fried chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and corn. _ Undoubtedly without the help of her husband _, Scully thought grumpily as she spooned a huge helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate, thankful that she was eating for two. Out loud, she complimented Karla on her cooking. She seemed to take pride in her subservient role in this marriage. The least Scully could do was give her kudos. Karla grinned brightly at the compliment.

“So Norma,” Edward said, gesturing to the delicate golden cross around her neck. “I see you are religious. It’s so good to see a couple raising children in the Christian faith. Presbyterian? Lutheran?”

Scully touched the cross instinctively. “Actually, I’m Catholic,” she corrected gently.

“Christian, Catholic… as long as you worship Jesus,” Edward said with a laugh. It was Mulder’s turn to tense up, as he frequently did when the topic turned to religion. Scully offered a comforting squeeze to his knee.

“We thought we would give our daughter the choice of what religion to follow - if any,” Mulder said. Edward and Karla froze, a look of horror on their face. It was Scully’s turn to laugh, to break the ice.

“He means, she could choose between Catholicism or a different branch of Christianity!” Scully was finally getting the hang of being Norma Blake. Edward and Karla laughed along with her.

The front door opened and slammed shut, quieting the laughter around the dinner table. “Eddie, is that you?” Karla called out. She clued in the Blakes: “Our son, Edward Jr.”

A sullen, emo kid shuffled into the dining room. “Hey,” he said flatly. He would have looked like a typical teenager - except for the fact that he was in his mid-20s. Karla seemed completely oblivious to her son’s antisocial demeanor. She jumped up and smothered Eddie in a hug. She offered him some food (“No thanks, I had burgers with Mikey and Kip”) and introduced him to the Blakes. He was polite enough, but Scully noticed that he looked her up and down in the same way his father did. She fought back a chill that went down her spine.

After a few moments of forced conversation, Eddie shuffled off into his room. Mulder excused himself to the bathroom. Edward and Karla didn’t think anything of it, but Scully could tell he was going to talk to Eddie. 

“So, Norma,” Edward began, “if you don’t mind me asking, why did you and Joe wait until so late in life to bring a baby into the world?”

“Um, well, to be honest… I didn’t think I could have children.” She didn’t feel the need to elaborate any more than that.

“And yet here you are, in your… what, in your 50s? You get pregnant and you decide to keep the baby. That is quite commendable. So many ‘liberals’ would have killed their baby because it would have been inconvenient.”

Scully was taken aback by Edward’s blunt statement. “Thank you…?” She wasn’t sure what to say.

“So this will be your first child?” Karla asked.

“No--” Scully froze when she realized her mistake. Normally she wouldn’t lie about William, but she didn’t think these people would take kindly to hearing how she gave up her alien-human hybrid baby for adoption. “Um, no, I had a son a long time ago. He was… stillborn.” She felt guilty about lying, but the look of sympathy she got from Karla and Edward was far preferable than being looked at like a monster. 

“We wanted to have more kids, too,” Karla said, trying to put Scully at ease. “But after I had Eddie, there were complications, and that was that.” Scully couldn’t help but notice the shame on Karla’s face when discussing what Edward clearly saw as a failing in her “womanly duties.”

“Did you ever think about adoption?” Scully asked.

“Yes, we discussed it, but--”

“--but we wouldn’t know where the baby came from.” Edward finished Karla’s sentence and everyone fell into a tense silence. Scully read between the lines: _ We couldn’t be guaranteed a white child _.

* * *

When Eddie had come into the house, Mulder noticed he wore black Doc Martens with red shoelaces, a notorious symbol for white supremacists, to show that they were “true believers.” This was why he wanted to talk to him. Mulder hoped that this would be a quicker way into the more fanatical side of the president’s base. He knew Scully wasn’t comfortable with this assignment, and though he put on a brave face, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go before he started punching neo-Nazis. It _ killed _ him to see strangers treating Scully like a Stepford Wife, and it was even harder to not be able to defend her. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going on in her head.

“Hey Eddie. I dig the music,” Mulder said, standing at Eddie’s open bedroom door. The kid was listening to some ska music that Mulder didn’t recognize, but whose lyrics had a distinct nationalist tang.

“Thanks, man.”

Mulder ventured a step into Eddie’s bedroom. The kid was a bundle of contradictions that he couldn’t quite figure out. He had a dour look on his face, yet he was polite when spoken to. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed and wore ragged, filthy clothing, yet he smelled clean. He was in his mid-20s - at least - yet his room reminded Mulder of his teenage room: piles of dirty laundry, days-old dishes sitting on every surface, and walls covered with posters.

The posters were an eclectic mix of classic bands and musicians (Led Zeppelin, Johnny Cash, Rolling Stones); bands he had never heard of (Skrewdriver, End Apathy, Definite Hate); and girls in skimpy bikinis stretched out obscenely across muscle cars (notably, these were hung on the ceiling, over Eddie’s bed). Throughout the room, there were not-so-subtle nods to Eddie’s white supremacist tendencies, most notably the Confederate flag, an Iron Cross, and the number 88.

Eddie was staring at Mulder, and he realized he didn’t really have a plan when he came in here. So Mulder decided to just be open. “I noticed your red shoelaces,” he said.

Eddie was suspicious. “Yeah… I like the way they look.”

“Oh yeah, so do I. I used to wear the big black boots with red shoelaces. But professionalism requires me to wear loafers and stuff like that.” Mulder was quiet for a minute, while he mustered up the will to say the next part. “I miss it. It offered a sense of community.”

“So...you consider yourself to be part of the alt-right?” Eddie asked cautiously.

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

“But you are friends with my parents,” he said, pointedly ignoring Mulder’s question.

“We only met them a few days ago at a rally.” Mulder considered Eddie for a moment, noticing his discomfort. “Your parents _ aren’t _ alt-right?”

Eddie shook his head. “They say they aren’t alt-right… but they are. They just worry that it isn’t ‘politically correct,’ which is problematic in and of itself.” Mulder was surprised by this self-aware commentary. “They say they just want to keep their true beliefs private so they can fit in with the rest of the GOP.”

“But you consider yourself alt-right.”

The kid shrugged, and Mulder wondered if he really believed all the garbage that he surrounded himself with, or if it was a combination of peer pressure and parental encouragement. He suddenly felt sympathy for Eddie.

“Your buddies… Mikey and Kip? Where do they fall?”

“They are definitely alt-right,” Eddie said quickly, his voice tinged with admiration. “They are hardcore. They are always up at the front at all the rallies. They attend all the protests. The president’s people even know them, so we always get preferential seating.”

“What do they protest?”

“Oh you know… whatever….” He seemed reticent to reveal anything to Mulder, so instead he offered to introduce them at the next rally - an offer Mulder was quick to jump on.

* * *

When Mulder returned to the dinner table, he found things awkwardly quiet.

“I was just talking to Eddie,” Mulder said, trying to lighten the mood. “He’s a great kid.”

Karla smiled. “Thank you! People so often judge him by what they see on the outside, and they don’t see his sweet, kind, generous nature.”

Scully shot Mulder a look. Irony was completely lost on Karla and Edward.

“Things are seldom what they seem. Skim milk masquerades as cream,” Mulder said thoughtfully, quoting W. S. Gilbert. Karla and Edward stared blankly at him. He had stepped out of character and quickly tried to course-correct. “Um… I heard that on an episode of _ JAG _ I saw a few years ago.”

Scully kicked him under the table and glared at him. Mulder realized he had adopted a hillbilly accent, overcompensating for his screw-up. He took an enormous bite of chicken to prevent himself from saying anything further.

The two couples finished up dinner pleasantly. Joe explained that Norma needed to go home and get her rest, and they said their goodbyes.

As soon as the car door closed, Scully opened her mouth, but Mulder held his hand up to silence her. Edward and Karla were standing on the porch, watching them leave. They looked like a creepy combination of _ American Gothic _ if it were set in Stepford.

Once they had driven a few blocks away, Mulder motioned for Scully to begin the rant he knew was coming about Karla and Edward’s hypocrisy, misogyny, and inappropriateness. Mostly Edward. Mulder was happy to let Scully rant. She was the strongest woman he had ever met, and he didn’t want this case to break her.

When Scully finished, Mulder gave her a minute to make sure she was done before speaking. “Do you want to hear what I got from Eddie?”

“Oh my gosh. Yes, of course Mulder! I’m so sorry… these people just get me so mad.”

Mulder chuckled. “I understand.”


	3. Act 3

RIDER JET CENTER

HAGERSTOWN, MARYLAND

JULY 29

Another day, another rally. Mulder and Scully said hello to Edward and Karla, then headed up to the front with Eddie and his friends, burger-lovers Mikey and Kip, and Ben. Scully was surprised at how polite everyone was. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was “with child,” or if it was just because they couldn’t smell the liberalism on her.

When the rally began, things got louder, more boisterous. Scully was anxious, but stubbornness prevented her from clinging to Mulder. She didn’t want to give in to the stereotypes that the men in the arena seemed to place on her. Similarly, Mulder had a macho instinct to protect his woman, even though he knew she didn’t need it. He worried that the misogyny of these followers was rubbing off on him, and focused on staying cool.

As the president wrapped up his speech, one of his aides appeared in the audience. The aide greeted Eddie and his friends amicably, but went straight to Scully to inform her that the president was going to come and greet them. Eddie and his friends were excited. Scully just felt herself getting tense. Mulder was, too, but he put his energy into soothing Scully so this didn’t turn into a national incident.

When the crowds cleared out, the president appeared. He zeroed in on Scully, his eyes never leaving her, even as he shook Eddie’s hand. The fact that Scully was one of the few females in the front row - and certainly the most attractive by a large margin - was not lost on Mulder. Or the president.

“Hello,” he said to Scully as he approached her. “Well look at this! A pregnant fan!” Without asking, he put his hand on her belly, and started rubbing, while locking eyes with her. “A beautiful pregnant fan,” he said, not noticing her teeth grinding together or her hands balling into tight fists within Mulder’s calming hands. The president squinted at her. “A beautiful, pregnant, _ older _ fan. One who _ chose _ to keep her baby!” He seemed to take this fact as a triumph. Scully’s anger was momentarily quelled as she pondered why everyone kept focusing on her age in relation to this pregnancy.

The president turned his attention to Scully’s baby. He leaned down and began speaking to the fetus. Scully was pretty sure the president thought her belly button was some sort of microphone directly to her uterus. “Hey there little fella,” the president crooned into Scully’s belly button. “Your mommy and daddy are going to raise you a Republican, aren’t they? Aren’t they?”

Scully looked helplessly at Mulder, imploring him with her eyes to get this madman away from her stomach. They held a silent conversation, with Scully threatening to pummel the president, consequences-be-damned, and Mulder begging her to just stick it out a few minutes more. Scully picked up on a few keywords that the president was sharing with her fetus: “33,000 emails … biggest crowds … witch hunt … most transparent…”

She turned towards the secret service agents flanking the president, hoping for respite. The male agent remained stony-faced. The female agent gave Scully a look of sympathy and a little shrug - until she noticed the president’s hand start to slide to the underside of Scully’s belly.

“Sir,” she spoke up. “It’s time to go.”

“Alright, alright,” the president grumbled, righting himself before he could grab anything else. “I would be honored if you would be a guest at my next rally,” he said to her, before quickly adding, “you and your husband, of course.”

“Oh, no, we couldn’t. We _ really _ couldn’t,” Scully grumbled through clenched teeth.

“Nonsense! I insist. My secretary will set it up.” And with that, he was gone.

Eddie and his friends surrounded Scully like she was a celebrity. But she was a million miles away, vacillating between anger, horror, and disgust. Ben reached out and touched her stomach, where the president had just held his hand, and Scully jumped. “We need to leave,” she hissed to Mulder. “I have never needed a shower more than I do at this moment.”

* * *

Scully was quiet on the ride home. Silent. Mulder was worried about her. He cracked a few lame jokes at the beginning of the car ride, but she was a million miles away, so he stopped trying. A nervous “Are you okay?” was met by a half-hearted “Mm-hm.” He wanted desperately to touch her, to hold her, but he didn’t. He knew that would only be an attempt to make himself feel better, not her. He gripped the steering wheel especially hard to prevent himself from putting a comforting hand on her shoulder or squeezing her knee or taking her hand to his lips.

Once home, she went straight to the shower, where she stayed for nearly an hour. Mulder could swear he could hear soft crying beneath the pounding faucet. He hoped he was wrong.

When Scully finally emerged from the shower, her eyes were slightly red. She _ had _ been crying. She must have found catharsis in it, because she seemed much closer to normal. She played with Daggoo, she smiled at Mulder’s stupid jokes, she even ribbed him about how it was his turn to do laundry.

But when she came to bed, Mulder put his arm around her, and she jumped. He pulled away, and Scully sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

“Hey. No sorrys. I wasn’t trying to put the moves on you.”

She laid down, and he followed suit. “I know nothing really happened—“

“You were uncomfortable. That’s all that matters.” Mulder’s rage was only tamped down by his concern for Scully.

Scully reached tentatively for his hand, which he gripped tightly. “I just need a good night’s sleep,” she yawned. He tentatively reached for her hair, and when she didn’t pull away, he stroked it, knowing it always soothed her to sleep.

* * *

Scully woke in the middle of the night to hear her cell phone ringing. She grabbed for it blindly, but found it was silent. Her confusion woke her fully, and she realized it was her undercover phone. She answered nervously, and was greeted by Karla on the other end, panicked.

“Norma? I’m so sorry to call so late… or early, I don’t know. But have you heard from Eddie?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since the rally.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. He was there with Mikey and Kip, and they told us you were with them. They got separated after the rally and we haven’t seen or heard from him.”

“He’s not answering his cell phone? Can you track it?”

“No. And he shut off the tracker. I know, a boy of twenty-four _ should _ be out, going to parties or on dates or whatever kids do late at night… but that’s not Eddie!”

Scully’s heart went out to this woman. She didn’t know her well, and certainly didn’t agree with her views or lifestyle, but Scully understood the pain of losing a child. Even if Eddie had only been missing for an evening, she did not discount Karla’s concern.

Scully promised Karla she would keep an eye out for Eddie and call if she heard anything. Mulder rolled over sleepily and wrapped his arms around Scully. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. “Whasthat?” he mumbled. Scully filled him in on the phone call, and assured Mulder it was nothing to worry about right now. He seemed satisfied with this answer and went back to sleep. Scully burrowed in closer to Mulder, suddenly very content to be in his arms.

* * *

VINES CENTER, LIBERTY UNIVERSITY

LYNCHBURG, VIRGINIA

AUGUST 1

Scully was having misgivings about suddenly becoming the president’s fixation. She and Mulder arrived at the next rally an hour early, to be “put in place,” but both were adamant: they would not stand behind the president’s lectern. The pair argued with all of the president’s people, but both staunchly refused. When Scully threatened to leave the rally altogether, the president suddenly appeared and insisted she stay. “Please, Norma,” he said, taking her by the hand - the least offensive thing he could have grabbed - “just stay here, watch from the wings. It’s the best seat in the house. It’s where my wife stands when she is here. But she’s not here tonight.” Scully could swear that he waggled his eyebrows at her. She felt Mulder tense beside her.

Scully extricated her hand from the president’s, and instead took Mulder’s hand. “Okay. _ We _ will stay. Off-screen only.” Satisfied, the president wandered off to prepare.

“I don’t like this, Scully. This flirting is getting… icky,” Mulder grumbled. 

“I agree. But I am worried about Eddie, and I feel like we are getting close to answers.”

“You ‘feel?’” Mulder asked incredulously. “Since when do you get ‘feelings’ about cases?”

“I’ve been working with you for _ way _ too long. Besides,” she continued, clutching his arm, “you would never let some neanderthal take advantage of your woman.” She spoke with the drawl of an innocent Southern debutante, which made Mulder flush excitedly.

* * *

The rally began right on time. Scully had gotten pretty good at blocking out the president’s words, and instead focused on searching the front few rows of spectators. She saw Kip and Mikey and the rest of their crew, but Eddie was not among them.

“Now folks, I want you to meet someone,” the president told the raging crowd. “She is a beautiful woman who you’d never guess was over _ fifty _ years old.”

_ Oh no. No. No. Nonononono…. _

“She got pregnant. At _ fifty _ years old! You couldn’t tell by looking at her. She is just beautiful. Just beautiful. So beautiful. But anyway, if she were a Democrat, what do you think she would have done to that baby?”

“_ KILL IT! _” the audience screamed.

“Yeah, that’s right. You know the Democrats have no respect for a baby’s life. They would get pregnant, they would say, ‘oh, I’m too old to take care of a baby, I can’t be a responsible human being, I’m just going to kill it so I can go boating or whatever.’”

The crowd responded with manic boos. Scully was mortified and started looking for an escape route.

“Now, I had a conversation with this mother _ and _ her baby the other day. And you know what? This baby is going to grow up to be a good Republican!” The audience cheered. “Do you want to meet her? Do you?” The cheers turned into roars. The president’s people surrounded Scully and prevented her from escaping. 

The secret service literally pulled Scully onto stage. “Mul - Joe! Help!” He sprinted after her, but another secret service agent the size of a wall blocked his path.

The president met her and took her hand with surprising gentleness as he led her to center stage. Scully kept looking desperately for Mulder, but he was blocked behind a wall of secret service agents. If she weren’t so distraught at the thought of being televised, she might have laughed at Mulder’s attempts to jump, climb, sneak over the agents.

“This is Norma Blake,” the president announced triumphantly. He put his hand on her stomach. “And this is her beautiful baby. Now, I had a conversation with her baby just last week, and the baby agrees with me, about the emails, the immigrants, the awesome job I am doing as president. Your cheers have been working!” The crowd went crazy, and chants broke out, a combination of “_ Lock her up! _ ” and “ _ USA! _”

Scully was glad that the stage lights blocked her view of the crowd. It was all too surreal… too horribly surreal. She felt like she was in a David Lynch film, without the humor. The chants grew louder, spurred on by the president himself, as he launched into a diatribe about how he saw abortion: “The baby is born. The mother meets with the doctor. They take care of the baby. They wrap the baby beautifully. And then the doctor and the mother determine whether or not they will execute the baby.”

The room began to spin. She didn’t know if it was the lights, the public spectacle, the blatant disregard for facts, or the idiots who were eating this shit up. Whatever it was, Scully felt a sudden queasiness that she hadn’t felt since her first trimester. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she bolted from the stage. In the background, she could hear the president laughing. “You know what they say, folks. Morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the mornings!”

A particularly ambitious intern followed Scully, trying to get her back on stage. Mulder recognized that look on Scully’s face and knew that she would not go back - and not just because she was about to vomit. This was something he knew he could do for her: he stepped between Scully and the intern, blocking his path. When the intern began to complain that Mrs. Blake “owed” it to them to return to the stage, Mulder punched him in the face.


	4. Act 4

Scully found a quiet corner to recover in. Mulder brought her water and saltines and stroked her hair - their old morning sickness routine. They both knew this wasn’t morning sickness. They stayed there until the rally was over, hoping that they could stay put until the crowds had cleared out.

The president’s assistants had other plans for them.

“He wants you to meet him in the Oval,” one particularly frazzled assistant told them.

“Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mulder insisted.

The assistant looked hard at Mulder. “He wasn’t talking about you.”

“Okay,” Scully said shakily. This took Mulder by surprise. “My husband comes, too,” she added quickly, to make sure there was no confusion.

“Tomorrow. Two PM,” the assistant said before taking her leave.

Once alone, Mulder looked at Scully in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. This man assaults you. He drags you on stage. He almost makes you vomit out your own baby….” Mulder realized what he said without noticing Scully’s surprised look. “Look at me! The idiocy is contagious!”

“Mulder, we are in too deep,” she said slowly. “We can’t stop now. We are so close. I know you’re not a fan of Karla and Edward, but we have to find out what happened to Eddie.” Mulder softened at the mention of Eddie. He had a fondness for the kid, weird as he was. He also knew that it was pointless to argue with Scully about this. She was dead-set on seeing this case through. If she could put up with this, then he could, too.

* * *

Back at home, Mulder and Scully cuddled on the couch with some tea and popcorn, carefully avoiding anything topical or news-related. They settled on watching reruns of _ The Simpsons _. 

Scully’s cell phone buzzed on the table, just out of her reach. She pouted and whimpered. Mulder couldn’t resist. He handed her her phone.

“Hi Director Skinner,” she said into the phone. 

“Scully. How is the assignment going?”

She knew where this was headed, but played dumb. “Great, sir. I think we are close to a breakthrough. We were invited to the Oval Office tomorrow.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, disinterested. He pushed forward. “Are you aware you were on television tonight?”

“Yes, the president insisted. It was not my choice….”

“Do you realize that I have been getting calls all day from all corners of the FBI, asking what the hell is going on with you? You have gone undercover before; you know how to keep a low profile.”

“Sir, with all due respect, it’s hard to keep a low profile around the president.”

Skinner sighed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. “Can I talk to Mulder for a minute?”

She passed him the phone.

“What the hell is going on with your case?”

“Sir, I know. It’s terrible. But Scully wants to continue, and with the misogyny she is facing among this group, I’m certainly not going to stand in her way.” Scully hit him playfully.

“Mulder… Agent Scully hasn’t developed Stockholm Syndrome, has she?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

“No, sir. She’s just dedicated to solving this case.”

“Okay. Don’t tell her I told you this, but keep an eye on her. Don’t leave her alone with the assaulter-in-chief.”

“Of course, sir.”

As soon as Mulder hung up, Scully wanted to know what Skinner had said. “He just wanted to make sure you weren’t being forced into this case against your will,” he told her.

* * *

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

AUGUST 2

Scully and Mulder arrived at the White House just before two o’clock. Both were surprisingly nervous. Scully because, though she had no respect for this president, she still had respect for the institution and she had never been to the Oval Office before. Mulder because he was worried for Scully’s safety - and that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if the president laid a hand on her again.

It turned out the president’s assistant had been more frazzled than they thought. She gave them the wrong time, and they were there a half-hour early. They sat in one of the Oval Office’s anterooms, basically twiddling their thumbs.

Mulder watched the throng of suited bureaucrats flow in and out of the Oval Office with bored disinterest. But one short, twitchy man made him sit up. He pulled on Scully’s sleeve, desperate for her attention. “_ They _!” he hissed as the man walked by. Scully shrugged. But a few minutes later, the same man walked by, and there was no mistaking him: Dr. Thadeus Q. They. Dr. They winked at Mulder and put a finger to his lips, motioning for him to be quiet.

Scully was getting restless. She excused herself to the restroom, leaving Mulder to literally twiddle his thumbs in her absence.

A sudden commotion piqued his interest. There was more foot traffic going in and out of the Oval, at a more frantic pace. Someone slammed the office door shut, but they slammed it too hard, causing it to bounce open an inch. It wasn’t enough for anyone to notice, but it offered Mulder a clear view inside the Oval Office.

The president was in there, along with several advisers. A secret service agent led in a young, star-struck man from another door. Mulder couldn’t be positive, but he thought it was Mikey. Or Kip. He couldn’t remember which was which.

The president exchanged pleasantries with Mikey/Kip, then gave him a souvenir. While he was ogling his souvenir, the president was… changing. His orange skin shed, revealing green, slimy flesh beneath. His arms mutated to tentacles, and his face took on the look of a cartoonish Cthulhu. 

This was not like any alien Mulder had ever encountered, or thought he encountered, or that anyone else had encountered and described to him. This looked more like one of the monsters from the cheesy 1950s sci-fi flicks he loved so much.

A giant black tongue emerged from the mouth of the creature, as its tentacles grasped Mikey/Kip. The tongue descended on him. There was a sucking sound. Mulder could swear the kid was becoming mummified before his eyes. A few seconds later, and Mikey/Kip slid from the creature’s mouth. The creature turned back into the president, who straightened his tie and coiffed his hair, then went back to business as usual.

Mulder sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. He was trying to process this when Scully returned from the restroom. Of course. This was going to be Antarctica all over again.

“Come on,” he hissed, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her out of the West Wing, out of the White House, out of the Capital. He would have dragged her out of the country if he could.

* * *

Once they got home, Mulder explained to Scully what he had seen that had him so freaked out. He didn’t expect her to believe him. Hell, just hearing himself describe a “slimy, betentacled creature sucking the life out of a human being” made Mulder wonder what kind of crazysauce he had consumed.

What was even weirder than the circumstances he just described was the fact that Scully actually believed him.

“Let’s be honest. Your story is easier to believe than the idea that there are people out there dumb enough to believe that a woman would carry a child to term only to murder it.”

* * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

AUGUST 4

They sat awkwardly in Deputy Director Skinner’s office. The office was different; the feeling was not. Scully and Mulder had to explain what had happened over the last couple of weeks, when they didn’t understand it themselves.

But Skinner wasn’t really interested in what happened with the case. “Do you want to tell me how you ended up as the poster child for the president and his anti-abortion rhetoric?” His voice was low, but his tone was seething.

Scully shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She clearly didn’t want to discuss it, so Mulder jumped in. “The assaulter-in-chief.” He offered no further explanation, and Skinner seemed satisfied with that. For now.

“Luckily, now that the case is closed, I can just tell people you were undercover. No one ever has any more questions after that.” They clearly weren’t the first to go undercover in this president’s base.

Now they had to answer Monica’s questions about the case that she assigned. She dragged a chair beside Skinner, so she was sitting behind his desk. Since Monica couldn’t go into the field anymore, she was clearly hoping to move up the ladder, and used this as an opportunity to project some authority - or at least try. Skinner wasn’t about to have his position usurped. He turned towards Monica, giving her a look that lived somewhere in the space between questioning and warning. “Agent Reyes?”

Monica looked to him, looked at the position of her chair, and picked up what he was putting down. With a series of nervous “I’m sorrys,” she moved her chair out from behind Skinner’s desk, but still seated in front of Mulder and Scully.

Her tone was more gentle and friendly, but she still tried to put on an air of authority. “Agent Scully, Agent Mulder… your case report is woefully short on details or explanations as to these strange disappearances. The missing were never recovered, dead or alive. It’s almost like you didn’t know what to say or how to say it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you want a paper trail of,” Scully offered lamely.

“The president is an alien!” Mulder burst out - but not out of excitement. “Or a monster. One I’ve never seen before.”

This didn’t surprise either Monica or Skinner. Monica because she suspected there was something otherworldly going on. Skinner because he had heard these kinds of claims from these two before.

Mulder explained in great detail what he had seen in the Oval Office. He even stood up and acted out some of the alien’s movements. When he was done, he sat down, slightly out of breath. Skinner and Monica absorbed this silently for a full minute.

“Agent Scully, can you confirm your partner’s description?” Skinner asked with difficulty.

“Um… well…” she stammered. Mulder could see she _ wanted _ to confirm the story. Whether she wanted it to be true, or whether she wanted to make Mulder look less foolish wasn’t clear. Probably both.

“Sir, she was in the restroom at the time.”

Skinner nodded. He shuffled some papers on his desk. He looked at Monica.

“Under the circumstances, it is probably best that you didn’t write any of this down,” he said.

* * *

Scully and Mulder grabbed some lunch in the city before they headed back home.

“So that’s it? The investigation is over? The president gets to just keep going, doing… whatever it is he is doing?” Scully was back to being furious, an emotion that comforted him. He knew how to handle Angry Scully; it was Uncomfortable Scully or Ashamed Scully that he still had yet to figure out. He probably never would.

“That’s our current political system,” Mulder grumbled dejectedly. 

“If he gets reelected, promise me we can move to Canada.”

“I’ve already been looking into it.”

“So you’ve found out the secret,” a voice said. Both Mulder and Scully were startled to see a strange little man joining them for lunch.

“Mulder… is that…”

“Yeah, it is. Dr. Dana Scully, I’d like you to meet Dr. Thadeus Q. They.”

Scully nodded in greeting. In a week of weirdness, this didn’t even break the top five.

“So… you’re behind the monster in the White House?” Mulder asked, desperate for answers.

Dr. They shrugged. “I am merely a cog in the machine. I don’t know how he was selected; I only know that I am in charge of the propaganda that goes into keeping him in office.” Dr. They leaned in conspiratorially. “You want to know how he chooses his victims, don’t you?” Mulder and Scully nodded eagerly.

“They are like lambs to the slaughter. So eager to please. It’s really not difficult at all. And why do you think there is so much turnover in his cabinet?” A long beat while the agents absorbed this. “You want to know why he needs these victims, don’t you?” Again, they nodded in unison. Dr. They sat back, an oddly satisfied grin on his face.

“You don’t think that the president comes up with all his stupid ideas on his own, do you? He gets them from his victims. The president doesn’t have a single thought in his bloated green head. He gets all his ideas from his believers. All his ‘patriotism,’ all his thoughts about immigrants, religion, the wall… he sucks them all out of his followers’ heads.”

“And the cycle continues….” Scully murmurs. “Like a snake eating its tail.”

“Exactly.”

“Why tell us? Why can we know?” Mulder asked.

Dr. They chuckled. “You think anyone would believe you? Even your boss - who has dealt with a lot of your hooey - doesn’t believe you.”

“Is what I saw real?”

He shrugged. “Who’s to say what is real?”

Dr. They stood to leave. “It was lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Scully,” he says with a slight, gentlemanly bow. “And congratulations. Don’t let anyone tell you you are too old to have a baby.” With a friendly wink in Scully’s direction, Dr. They took his leave.

* * *

Scully and Mulder were happy to be home, and no longer undercover. They had taken the rest of the week off, and planned to just enjoy being themselves.

They went to bed early that night, and Mulder was relieved when Scully took her place as the little spoon without hesitation. 

“Mulder… do you ever worry about what our daughter’s political affiliation will be? I never thought much about it before, but this political climate is so fraught with anger and violence. What if she goes against us, joins a radical political wing? Or what if she follows our beliefs out of loyalty - but our beliefs are wrong?”

Mulder held her close, and cautiously put his hand to her stomach. She didn’t pull away, so he stroked it gently. “When I was little, my mom was a staunch Republican. Had been raised by generations of Republicans. My dad, however, was apolitical. After working in the government his entire life, he was disillusioned by it all. In fact, I don’t think my dad voted once in my entire childhood. Not even for PTA president. Yet I grew up to be a forward-thinking liberal. Not _ too _ liberal, mind you. But liberal in all the right ways.” He nuzzled her neck for a moment, before continuing. “What I’m saying is, I think that our little girl will be smart enough and independent enough to make up her own mind about what she will or won’t believe.”

Scully smiled. “Even about aliens?”

“Well no, of course not. She will believe in aliens or she’s out of the will!

She snuggled up closer to him. He was happy to hold her even tighter.

“Mulder, I wish I knew you when we were younger.”

“Ah, I wasn’t so different. I was just as headstrong, just as weird. I was just smaller.”

“Well, still. I wish I knew you then. I guess I just wish I knew you for more of my life,” she said wistfully, her voice heavy with sleep. “We wasted too much of our lives avoiding the inevitable….” And with that, Scully was asleep. Mulder laid awake a while longer, pondering what she had said and marveling at the little bean curled up against him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was written in the manner of a Darin Morgan episode. I don't hope to achieve his brilliance, but I hope I get a chuckle out of readers!
> 
> Artwork by admiralty. You can purchase all the artwork [on our RedBubble page](http://www.X-FilesSeason12.redbubble.com). All proceeds are being donated to Planned Parenthood.
> 
> Thanks for reading Episode Three! We'll be back Friday, Oct 11 at 9:00 EST with Episode Four. Follow us @Season12XF on Twitter for updates and info!


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